


heaven’s fire a hell’s kiss on your lips

by VerdantMoth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Grieving, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve is healthy, or was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24103132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: He’s alone, and the skies are calm, birds singing a new dawn. He wants to shoot them from the sky.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	heaven’s fire a hell’s kiss on your lips

The day is airy and sunny, bright, quiet. The sun is  _ warm _ , but the body in Bucky’s arms is cold. Cold, and heavy, the silence so loud Bucky’s suffocating under it. He’s  _ suffocating _ .

“This is not how it goes,” he tells the mud. 

“This is  _ not _ how it goes,” he screams. 

Steve was good. Was  _ better _ . Stevie, Bucky’s  _ Stevie _ , he was  _ healthy _ .

Bucky wails, and he should be ashamed. He should be  _ worried _ about the people around him. The men.

He’s alone, and the skies are calm, birds singing a new dawn. He wants to shoot them from the sky.

“You’re okay,” Bucky sooths. “You’re okay,” and he’s brushing the hair back from Steve’s forehead, smoothing the mud and the sweat and the days of marching from his fair brow. 

It’s good there’s no flush, it means there’s no fever. “Hear that, Stevie? No fever, you’re gonna be okay.” 

Someone is pulling at his shoulders, pulling at the sleeves of his uniform, and Bucky snarls. Steve is supposed to laugh.  _ “It’s a beastly noise, Bucky! No wonder Father Winston doesn’t like you, you sound like an actual demon!” _

He snarls and he growls and he’s foaming at the mouth. Steve is  _ okay _ . He’s going to, “I’m going to fix you, pal. Okay?” 

Bucky strokes his thumb over Steve’s lips, (blue, cold, gotta raise his temp. Feed him straight broth and tea. Like summer of ‘34.)

“You and I, we got a date, Steve. Peggy and dancing, and a little brownstone off 27th,” Bucky is rambling, he knows he is. 

It’s just, “Christ, Stevie, when did you get so big? You’re making my legs go numb. Ha!’ Bucky rocks a little, mud squelching beneath his thighs. It’s wrong, it’s  _ wrong _ because Steve is good. He’s healthy. 

Sunlight glints off Steve’s chest, right next to the sluggish red fountain. Bucky scrabbles, fingers catching on the dog-tags. He tugs at the medal, the  _ stupid _ medal Steve insisted on. Saint Christopher, the  _ protector _ . 

“I told you Steve,” Bucky whispers. “Told you the Devil in me’d get you.”

“Sergeant,” someone says gently. 

Bucky slaps a hand away from his shoulder.

“Sergeant, we have to go. Now.”

He knows. Bucky  _ knows _ they can’t stay here. It’s too open, too obvious. But. “I can’t just leave him,” Bucky wails. “I can’t, I have to,” protecting Steve is his  _ job _ . It’s why they enlisted. Because Steve is good, and noble, and honorable, and Bucky  _ protects _ him.

“Serge,” the voice is insistent. Dugan. 

“I won’t leave him,” Bucky growls out. “I won’t.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay, Serge. We’ll figure something out.”

Bucky kisses his forehead and he’s just checking for a fever, that’s all. He’s got his hands in the hole where Stevie’s heart once beat, and he’s just checking his pulse. He’s putting pressure. It’s okay, they’re going to make it. 

The day is airy. It’s sunny and bright and calm. Quiet wind singing and Bucky? Bucky is the devil’s cold chasing it away, rocking Steve in his arms. It’s just like home, holding him, kissing his temple. 

They hand him white sheets, stolen from some clothes line, and Bucky wraps him up. He tucks Stevie in, tucks him up real tight and it’s okay. “It’s all going to be okay, Steve, just wrap you up so nice and tight, and you’ll see. We’ll be okay, we’re going home? Yeah? We…”

They won’t, not together. 

But Bucky’ll follow him. Bucky will  _ always _ protect Steve. That’s his job, why he was born, why he’s pressing an ice cold kiss to sun warmed lips painted in death.


End file.
